


Fundamentals of Allagan Engineering

by did_you_reboot



Series: After Everything [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Sex, Annaiette is present and Into This, Art, Comfort, Crack, Crack Relationships, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, NSFW Art, Nero is very turned on by Allagan anything and here is the entire reason the Allagan Empire existed, Porn, Praise Kink, Smut, Teasing, and also reading manuals out loud, soft Allagan whispers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/did_you_reboot/pseuds/did_you_reboot
Summary: Crack spin-off ofSaudade/Yuán~“If I didn't know any better, it sounds like you have a crush. All this tech got you all hot and bothered, has it?” Annaiette laughed, raising her eyebrows.~When Annaiette returns to the Source with the Scions and a secret Garlean friend in tow, Nero finds out he is indeed hot and bothered.NOTE: These are mostly disjointed snippets, doodles, and rushed comics. They are also explicit, so uh don't go in here if you don't want to look at that.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Nero tol Scaeva, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Nero tol Scaeva/Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Series: After Everything [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557385
Comments: 115
Kudos: 167





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to draw Hades wearing the Ironworks uniform and bothering Cid with Nero, because Cid will probably die of shenanigans.
> 
> And uh
> 
> it all went downhill from there.

That the Emperor of Garlemald—Solus zos Galvus himself—had been an Ascian was, at this juncture, no surprise. Ascians seemed to be the cause of all their troubles these days, so Nero had merely brushed that information aside as _well, that’s hardly a surprise, now is it?_

 _Far_ more interesting was the fact that the genius blueprints Annaiette had been bringing to Garlond Ironworks not long before the Scions and the Emperor returned to the Source—the blueprints and instructions on repairing hybrid Allagan-Garlean tools—were penned by none other than the Emperor himself. 

Those genius blueprints so deftly married ancient Allagan technology with Garlean sensibilities. 

He shuddered just thinking about what further knowledge was locked away in the Emperor’s head.

And luckily for Nero, the Scions agreed that the Emperor—now stripped of his Ascian powers but not his brains, it seemed—would be most effective in aiding them were he to put those brains to use at Garlond Ironworks. It afforded Nero ample opportunity to pick his brain and learn aught about Allag that the Emperor might know.

“Of course I’m skilled with Allagan technology,” said the Emperor when pressed, and an almost devilish smirk had appeared on his face. “I was responsible for Allag, after all.”

It wasn’t often that Nero found himself at a loss.

This was one of those times.

So much so that the damnable Warrior of Light—who interestingly seemed to always be at the Emperor’s side—had taken note and had the audacity to tease him about it.

Clearly a simpleton such as herself hadn’t the faintest idea the enormity of the Emperor’s very existence.

* * *

Anyways, the doodles that spawned all this shit:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: nero has no idea what he's in for**
> 
> anyways! huge thanks to the [emet-selch book club](https://discord.gg/xqc2Ut5) because none of these shenanigans would exist without them ; w ; i love everyone so much and i just make these to make them laugh and/or bluescreen


	2. Self-Sustaining Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it goes downhill from here 
> 
> this is actually explicit don't say i didn't warn you lol 
> 
> any text in [brackets] is meant to be in Allagan

“Of course I’m skilled with Allagan technology,” said the Emperor when pressed, and an almost devilish smirk had appeared on his face. “I was responsible for Allag, after all.”

Nero’s thoughts were typically a flurry of ideas and theories and calculations, and at the Emperor’s words, his mind ground to a screeching halt.

The Emperor of the Garlean Empire had been responsible for Allag as well.

His heart might have skipped a beat.

“Doing all right there, Nero? You’re awfully quiet,” asked the Warrior of Light with an infuriatingly cheeky smile.

_Had she no idea the absolute significance of this revelation?_

There were so many things he wanted to ask — _so many things to ask_ — but the sheer number of questions pushing to the forefront of his mind was overwhelming — 

But he caught himself. It wouldn’t do to come undone before the father of the Allagan Empire.

“To think that the Emperor of Garlemald had a hand in Allag,” Nero said, forcing a smirk onto his face. “How did you bear the absolute _agony_ it must have been to watch us fumbling about with Allagan technology?”

“Oh, it was unbearable,” said the Emperor wryly. “But regardless, you did quite well with this so-called fumbling. Well done.”

The Emperor’s word’s tweaked at something in Nero.

Nero brushed the feeling off and forced a grin. 

“Well, of course I did.”

* * *

It was the Warrior of Light who had asked the question.

“Can you speak Allagan, Nero?” she’d asked curiously. “I know reading it is one matter, but I suspect _speaking_ a dead language is an entirely different matter.”

Nero glanced down at the schematics for a portion of the Azys Lla flight controllers that she had retrieved from the Crystal Tower on the First at the Emperor’s behest. Or Hades, he supposed; Nero thought it was terribly dull compared to the far more impressive name “Emperor Solus zos Galvus.”

“But of course, Annaiette. One does not gain the knowledge I have without some ability to speak it,” Nero said with a smirk. Emboldened by the surprisingly genuine fascination that had appeared on her face, he glanced down at the schematics and pointed at the box containing some ancient engineer’s notes. “Someone left a note about [refer to five revise sigma-573 design], it seems.”

“[Refer to the fifth revision of sigma-573 design] is what it says.” 

Nero nearly jumped at the sudden voice speaking perfect Allagan not a fulm from his ear and found the Emepror beside him, holding a pair of steaming mugs with a somehow approving smirk on his face.

The Emperor took a seat beside Annaiette, placing one of the mugs in front of her and taking a sip from the other. “[Your Allagan could be better, but you had the right idea.]” 

A terribly confusing shiver ran down Nero’s spine.

And to his horror, this was not lost on the Emperor, who raised an eyebrow in interest. Before Nero could come up with a suitable excuse to take his leave, the Emperor gestured at the empty seat at the table.

“[Annaiette and I were going over these schematics to examine the topology of a circuit. Stay if you’re interested.]”

Nero stayed.

* * *

Nero hadn’t wanted to come undone in front of the Emperor.

He hadn’t expected the Emperor take it upon himself to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: his radiance was very compelling indeed**
> 
> hahahahahahahah what has my life come to


	3. Management Node Operation Manual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahaha send help

Due to the prodigious amount of things Nero often had on the mind at any one moment, he often made lists to keep track of related things. And in recent days, he found himself with a different, more existential sort of list.

Things Nero Didn’t Think Would Happen to Him:

  * Learn new and incredibly ingenious techniques of utilizing ancient Allagan technology
  * Meet the person who pioneered such techniques
  * Find that this person also happened to be the former Emperor of Garlemald returned from the dead
  * Find that the former Emperor of Garlemald also had a hand in Allag, which additionally meant that he spoke perfect Allagan
  * Wake up beside the former Emperor of Garlemald, who had incidentally given him the best fuck he’d had in a long, long time



Nero couldn’t help but make a small sound of surprise when he woke up beside the former Emperor of Garlemald, who had incidentally given him the best fuck he’d had in a long, long time. This, to his horror, was enough to rouse the Emperor from his slumber, giving Nero no time to collect his racing thoughts. 

“Good morning,” the Emperor said sleepily with half-lidded eyes.

“Good—good morning,” Nero replied.

“I do hope you enjoyed yourself,” the Emperor murmured, yawning and shutting his eyes again. “It certainly sounded like you did, in any case.”

Nero thought back to the previous night, when he had learned about the principles which kept Azys Lla aloft in the sky whilst the Emperor had been buried deep inside him.

_Gods, it had been so good._

He felt a flush beginning to form on his face. And more concerningly, the hint of an ache in his groin. Fortunately, the Emperor—Hades—seemed to have drifted back to sleep and gave no indication that he had noticed. 

There was the gentle rustle of movement that drew Nero’s attention away from the feeling in his smallclothes-less crotch, and it was then that he realized that the Warrior of Light was fast asleep and snoring softly on the opposite side of the Emperor. She was drooling a little, it seemed.

And so he had one further thing to add to the list of Things Nero Didn’t Think Would Happen to Him:

  * Wake up beside the former Emperor of Garlemald with the Warrior of Light inexplicably in the same bed



* * *

The current state of affairs at Garlond Ironworks was entirely not what Nero expected. That is to say, everything at the Ironworks was normal, and it was as though that night had never happened. He was so sure that the Emperor and the Warrior of Light were going to hold it over him somehow — that they intended to embarrass him (or attempt to, and fail) or something of the like.

But no attempts to humiliate him came, and instead everything remained as it was.

It was deeply confusing.

Also deeply confusing was his inability to push that encounter from his mind. Over the course of a week he had walked in on the Emperor poring over Allagan schematics or running calculations, sometimes with Annaiette but more often without, and each time Nero encountered him he couldn’t help but think back on what he had learned. He learned — _truly_ learned and not merely formed inconclusive hypotheses — the most basic principles of the Azys Lla flight controllers was an experience he’d only ever dreamed of.

He also learned that doing this learning was somehow incredibly satisfying when it happened whilst the Emperor _did him_.

But the Emperor and the Warrior of Light still failed to give any indication that aught had happened. At least, not until a week later when he had found them laughing as they flipped through what appeared to be thin Allagan booklets. Booklets made of paper.

“You certainly look pleased with yourself, Annaiette,” said Nero, the corner of his mouth turning up in a cheeky grin. “Dare I ask what the contents of these booklets hold?”

She laughed again and held up the booklet in her hands. “You’d not believe the sorts of warnings the Allagans put in their operations manuals,” she said, passing him the booklet. “This is one for a management node.”

Nero glanced down at the page she indicated and found it was entirely covered warnings, and a cursory skim of the page had him raising an eyebrow. “[Do not use floating water device, do not eat inside colding, do not use aerial object stop weapon],” he said aloud, letting out a laugh. “One can only wonder what idiocy lies behind these warnings.”

He glanced toward the Emperor and found a look of what might have been disapproval on his face.

This, somehow, perturbed him.

“[Admirable attempt, but this is how the warnings are read],” said the Emperor, taking the booklet from him. “[Do not use as a floatation device, do not consume internal coolant, and do not use as anti-aircraft weapon.]” He paused, and before Nero could get out a retort, a roguish half-smile appeared on the Emperor’s lips. “It wouldn’t do for one of the realm’s most skilled engineers to speak such crude Allagan. I will teach you the Noble form. If you would like, of course.”

The Noble Allagan form.

_One of the realm’s most skilled engineers_.

_ONE OF THE REALM’S MOST SKILLED ENGINEERS._

It wasn’t often that Nero found himself at a loss.

This was another of those times.

He coughed in an attempt to get a hold of himself, but it didn’t work. The Emperor waited patiently, and it was all Nero could do to keep from coming undone.

“Does that sound agreeable to you, Nero?”

The look on the Emperor’s face indicated that he had every intention of ensuring that came to pass.

“Y-yes. _Gods yes_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: nero has to get better at casual Allagan before he can learn the Noble form so hades is reading the manual to him**
> 
> hahahahahahaha pls send help
> 
> "Allagan Noble form" and reading the manual are ideas courtesy of the Book Club I love all of you <3


	4. Proper Pronunciation and Enunciation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm ?????????? hahaha
> 
> reminder for anyone new who might be popping in on this chapter:  
> 1\. anything in [brackets] is meant to be in Allagan  
> 2\. it's explicit? lol

If Nero was the teaching sort, he might have been pounding on the doors of all the academies in Garlemald—hells, in Sharlyan, even—to share all the incredible knowledge of Allag he had gained in the short time he’d been... _involved..._ with the Emperor. But he was decidedly not the teaching sort, and so for the moment he was content to document all his learnings and trust that whoever was tasked with sorting out his belongings after his death would see to it that it was distributed to the proper places. Who, after all, would believe him if he tried to explain that Solus zos Galvus was actually a thousands-year-old man who returned from the dead and was now imparting upon him—among other things—incredibly detailed information about the long-gone Allag?

He did, however, relent when the Warrior of Light pointed out that he should at least share with Garlond because he was _right there_ , to which the Emperor had nodded with a sort of tepid agreement.

Garlond has been incredibly confused when presented with a copy of his learnings—a curated subset of them, anyway, as Nero couldn’t make it _too_ easy for him—and Garlond had narrowed his eyes in suspicion until he was told that the Warrior of Light was behind this gift. But gift or not, Nero was still malms ahead of Garlond, if only for the fact that Nero was far superior at Allagan than he, especially now that the Emperor had taken it upon himself to teach him proper grammar and pronunciation.

Not all their lessons happened in the bedroom, of course; when the mood struck him, the Emperor was a remarkably good teacher even in less lascivious settings, and more than once Nero had found himself deeply wishing that this knowledge had been available prior to the Emperor’s unceremonious return. Their discussions about science and engineering even outside the scope of Allagan technology were incredibly engaging as well, and the Warrior of Light—often bearing warm meals for anyone still at the Ironworks—sometimes found them still discussing magitek long past the official Ironworks working hours.

And as the days went by, Nero puzzled over her stance in all this more and more. She was astonishingly untroubled by the fact that the Emperor was regularly fucking him in their shared flat, sometimes whilst she was present. At first Nero wondered if they were not as close as he had initially thought, but the longer this went on, he wondered if it was in fact the opposite, and that they had something of a bond that he was loath to admit that he didn’t understand. This lack of understanding was an affront to everything he stood for, and thus he resolved to get to the bottom of the matter.

But it would have to wait until after tonight, he supposed. She was currently away doing whatever it was that Warriors of Light did—likely saving some helpless imbeciles from their own laundry or the like—but it lingered in the back of his mind as an irritating, flagrant reminder of that particular void in his knowledge.

The Emperor made a small noise in Nero’s neck. “[Something wrong?]” he murmured, and Nero shivered at the feel of the Emperor’s lips against his skin.

“[Nothing—wrong],” Nero replied, his breath hitching as the Emperor nibbled on his neck.

But the irritation left him with the desire—the _need_ —to do aught to distract from it before he went mad with frustration, and without thinking, he pushed himself up from his position under the Emperor and quickly Nero wriggled free, straddling him before the Emperor could regain his grip.

It was with great pleasure that Nero now found himself perched on top of the Emperor as he looked up at him with an almost impressed interest.

“[Today I will show you things learned],” Nero said, leaning down until he was staring into the Emperor’s pale gold eyes just ilms away.

The now-very-familiar devilish half-smile appeared on the Emperor’s face.

“[And what, my dear, will you show me today?]”

“[My pronunciation is mchimprove]—” His words were muffled when he found the Emperor’s lips pressed against his.

“[You will have to enunciate],” said the Emperor with a smirk. “[I didn’t get that last part.]”

* * *

Nero was quite satisfied with how pleased the Emperor was with his progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: speak clearly on that dick, nero**
> 
> i'm uhhh ?????????????? HAHA IDK WHO AM I WHERE AM I
> 
> and again, 100000000 thanks to the book club discord (link found in ch1/prologue) because this crack ship is a joint effort and i love them


	5. Subroutines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA help i'm in garlic hell

The significantly more advanced Allagan technology of course necessitated equally advanced methods of controlling and coordinating all the components which made up any given system. This could already get maddeningly challenging with Garlean technology, and even with Nero’s skill, he found his mind faltering more often than not. But this feeling was not one which disheartened him. No, _this_ feeling was one he loved, this absolutely delicious feeling of slowly and frustratingly clawing one’s way from the pit of ignorance. And it was from this pit of Allagan technology which he delighted in clawing himself out of.

And this, he suspected, was something the Emperor had counted on when he had given Nero a massive repository of ancient documents stored in a series of tomestones he and the Warrior of Light had retrieved from Azys Lla. 

A gift, he said, to keep him occupied whilst he and Annaiette accompanied the Scions to Othard in order to personally investigate the peculiar movements of the XIIth Imperial Legion. When they had departed, Nero had wondered just how long they expected to be gone if they had _mostly_ facetiously spun this gift as something “to keep him occupied.” But they were gone for nearly two weeks, during which Nero had admittedly found himself growing uncharacteristically restless—both he and Garlond were well acquainted with the XIIth and what they had been under Prince Zenos, and though they said nothing to each other about the matter, it was abundantly clear that Garlond too was anxiously awaiting the Scions’ return.

But there was naught either of them could do but wait for their return, and so Nero turned his attention on the gift given to him. His reading speed had improved drastically ever since he began partaking of the Emperor’s... _lessons_...and it took much longer for the inevitable headache to creep into his skull from the strain. It was all the better, as these particular documents were incredibly fascinating and it irritated him to be slowed by something so asinine as a little headache. 

The gift was a manual of sorts—an incredibly comprehensive one which seemed specifically written as a reference or guide to encoding functionality into Allagan device controllers. It was one thing to understand the fundamentals—which he did with ease, of course—and another thing to delve into the massively complex routines which defined a device’s functionality. The first time he looked at the routines which defined a management node, it had taken him nearly a day to decipher the high-level structure of the system. And the _real_ meat of it all was abstracted away in a way that made his mind twist and turn as he struggled to make sense of where everything was going and how it was getting there.

The Emperor and the Warrior of Light finally returned, both sporting fresh gunshot and laser wounds healed over with conjury. Nero found himself bewildered by their lack of concern about this circumstance, and was also bewildered by his own bewilderment over it. He had learned over the years that charging into and escaping danger was a perfectly normal day in the life of the Warrior of Light, and yet he still found himself concerned about their apparently narrow escape from the XIIth.

This feeling confused him, and he puzzled over it but could not come up with anything more substantial than it being concern that his source of untold Allagan knowledge might be lost should the Emperor—should _Hades_ —fall to his former legions.

Despite their wounds, though, Nero found Hades at the Ironworks the next day, somewhat grumpily scrawling calculations into a journal.

“Dare I ask who—or what—what has managed to vex you so?” Nero asked as he peered at the numbers and symbols spanning the pages.

“The Exarch sent a message through the linkshell last night and requested Annaiette’s assistance,” said Hades, the distaste clear in his voice. “One would think that after all the work I did to improve his control over the Tower, he might go two moons without finding some problem unsolvable by anyone other than the Warrior of Darkness. She was there not two weeks ago.”

Nero let out a cavalier laugh. “[How ungrateful of him.] Perhaps the time has come to disconnect the linkshell—G’raha Tia is all grown up now, let him spread his wings.”

A wry smile appeared on Hades’ face as he chuckled and resumed his work. “[It brings a tear to the eye how fast they grow up.]” 

* * *

When Nero could no longer take any further reading, he instead turned to his little project to completely reprogram a management node from the ground up. As he still only had the most rudimentary understanding of the programmatic structure of a management node, he remained in the earliest stages of this project. That is to say, he managed to make its lights turn red when he pressed a panel on it. As yet, he didn’t understand the proper way to invoke its flight controllers—or anything else, really—and so it sat there on the floor. 

Red.

Which was certainly progress, in both knowledge and style.

He turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and found Hades entering the workshop. “[You look like you’ve been enjoying yourself],” said Hades as he drew near, peering from the lines and lines of commands on Nero’s screen to the management node on the floor. “[What are you working on?]”

“[Programming again the management node],” Nero replied. 

Hades raised an eyebrow at him and Nero felt his heart skip a beat: Hades looked mildly impressed by his reply.

“[Ambitious],” he said, and Nero couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his face.

“[Am I anything but?]”

But Hades didn’t reply and instead turned his attention to the commands on the screen. Somewhat concerningly, his brow furrowed as his eyes traveled down the screen and when he had finished, he looked to Nero with that all-too-familiar half-smile. “[Admirable attempt, but it would do you well to review the basics with me.]” 

Nero felt arms wrapping around his shoulders, and a face pressing into his hair.

“[It is clear you failed to grasp the concept of the subroutine—something we may soon remedy],” came the Emperor’s soft voice in his ear, and the sound of his voice and the warmth of his breath made the breath hitch in Nero’s chest. “[But first, why don’t you explain them to me as you understand them?]”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: nero was doing the equivalent of doing all his programming in main()**
> 
> `while (true) {  
>  if (Hades.IsItTime && Nero.IsItTime) {  
>  PutThemTogether(Hades.Bingus, Nero.Bingus);  
>  }  
> }`  
>  _all i do is c# lately so that's what ur gonna get_
> 
> ANYWAYS ILU ALL AND NONE OF THIS WOULD HAPPEN WITHOUT THE EMET-SELCH ENABLING BOOK CLUB. you can find a link in the prologue if you want to join in the shenanigans. it's big but we've got a great mod team and everyone does their best to be loving and enabling :D


	6. Interlude: Persimmons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (SFW) A small chat and some persimmons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS SFW SORRY TO DISAPPOINT

Nero found the Warrior of Light sitting in the sun up on one of the public areas atop the buildings near the aetheryte, peeling persimmons with her legs dangling off the ledge. There was a not insignificant pile of skins and seeds beside her and a pair of unpeeled persimmons in her lap...Just how many had this woman eaten?

“Oh hello, Nero,” she said brightly when his shadow fell upon her. “Want a persimmon?” But she didn’t wait for him to answer and used her knife to split the piece in her hand before holding it out to him.

He had been around her long enough now to just take the offered food instead of arguing.

“Persimmons again? Are the fruits in Eorzea so displeasing to you that you must travel to Othard to get your fix?” Nero said as he eased himself down next to her. “I suspect you’re not battling creatures in Othard at all and are merely using it as a guise to conceal your true intent to completely strip them of fruit.”

“Of course you, Nero, would work out my _devious_ master plan,” she laughed, her voice heavy with sarcasm, and he flashed her a grin.

“Naturally!”

Annaiette laughed again before giving him a questioning look. “So what brings you out here? You’re a busy man—can’t imagine you’ve come to make small talk with _me_ , least not about fruit.” 

She held another piece of persimmon out to him.

He was glad for the crunchiness of the persimmon as it gave him a moment to gather his frustratingly anxiety-ridden thoughts. He’d been so confident about his plan to ask the Warrior of Light for her thoughts on their... _arrangement..._ and he’d been even more confident that her demeanor indicated that she saw no issue with it, but now that this was a conversation happening outside the confines of his mind, he was very unexpectedly quite unsure of himself.

“Hah! While there are indeed a great many things I could be doing _other_ than small talk, I—there is something I wanted to ask you, Annaiette,” he said, and this small hint of hesitation in his voice was not lost on her. She looked to him with concern, opening her mouth to say something but quickly closed it again and instead waited patiently for him to continue. “Surely you can’t be happy with...me and the E—Hades. Why do you tolerate this?”

“Oh, is that all?” she laughed as she began peeling another persimmon. She glanced up at him with that completely untroubled smile of hers, somehow unnerving in his moment of frustrating uncertainty. “Hades is happy with it. Are you happy?”

That Hades was happy was a confusing revelation that inexplicably made his heart skip a beat. But this was secondary to her question, which was perhaps even more confusing than that.

“I suppose so, yes.”

She pat his thigh and returned to peeling. “Good. Then I’m happy, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: he still doesn't know what the fuck her deal is and it's pissing him off**
> 
> ANYWAYS I WROTE THIS AND WASN'T SURE WHAT TO DO WITH IT SO HERE YOU GO


	7. Signal Processing and Aetherial Communications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here i am, back on my bullshit

Truth be told, when the Emperor had initially arrived at the Ironworks—“May as well put his brain to use,” Tataru had so bluntly put it—Nero had wondered just how long Garlond’s patience would last amid the chaos that had ensued. The Ironworks did eventually calm, of course, which was a _slight_ disappointment as Nero had been reveling in said chaos, and the familiar rhythm of the shop soon returned. It wasn’t a total loss, as the Emperor was _very interesting_ for many reasons and thus kept his attention and it wasn’t until he’d overheard a facetious-but-based-in-truth comment from Jessie that he realized the Emperor was indeed “putting his brain to use.” In the wake of the Emperor’s and the Warrior of Light’s departure to go traipsing around Garlemald with Gaius and Estinien, Jessie had lamented to Garlond that the hypothetical loss of the Emperor and Warrior of Light would regrettably reduce Ironworks productivity. 

Nero supposed that whatever work Jessie and Garlond assigned to the Emperor was mere child’s play for him; hardly the most interesting or stimulating work for the one who architected Allag, and Nero also supposed that the Emperor had taken to giving him _lessons_ as a means of entertaining himself. That the Warrior of Light was included in Jessie’s comment was interesting, though—she was often around, but whenever Nero found her she was in the company of the Emperor, either being taught the basics of Allagan and Garlean technology or assisting him in their Saving-the-Source-and-all-Reflections project.

So it was with some surprise that after their return from Garlemald with fresh bullet and laser wounds which were confusingly gut-wrenching for unknown reasons, he found her in a corner of the Ironworks he rarely visited, repairing control boards salvaged from disabled Garlean warmachina.

“And what have we here? The Warrior of Light _not_ destroying everything in sight?” Nero asked with a grin. She looked up from the workstation and grinned in kind.

“How do you know this isn’t a form of destruction?” she asked wryly. “Very tiny destruction.”

A cursory glance at the amateurish but shockingly clean work on the boards told him all he needed to know. 

“Hah. If you should like to deliver this form of so-called destruction upon _other_ non-functional items in the northern end of the Ironworks, I’ll not complain,” he said with a small laugh as he turned to continue on his way.

“You’ll _not_ complain? I ought to do that, then,” came her laugh as he took his leave, and he wasn’t sure why he found himself hoping she did.

* * *

The next time Nero found the Emperor and the Warrior of Light, they were in the midst of a discussion about how Garlean networks routed data to and from different systems. This talk of Garlean communications techniques was at best superficial, entry-level, and thus absolutely nothing new to Nero—indeed, he had been ready to leave out of boredom—his interest was piqued by the fact that this lesson in telecommunications was prompted by an earlier discussion of the Crystal Tower’s state-of-the-art and still unsurpassed internal and external communications networks, and the damage done to them in the Fourth Umbral Calamity.

“Garlean techniques are based on Allagan techniques, of course,” said the Emperor as the Warrior of Light sipped her coffee, “but the use of aether-aspect modulation to transmit signals allowed for far higher bandwidth than current Garlean methods allow.”

“Aether-aspect modulation,” Nero said with interest. Aether-aspect modulation had been a part of high-level courses that veered firmly into the theoretical, and though there were many Allagan ruins and relics that implied the use of such, there was nothing in good-enough condition to help speed up the reverse-engineering process...

The Emperor smiled.

“Garlemald hasn’t the technology to fabricate the materials and thus the devices for aspected communications,” he said with an air of irritation. “It would take years to build the facilities even if I delivered the plans directly to the engineers. Though with Creation magicks it would be but a moment…”

He glanced over at Annaiette, who wrinkled her nose at him over the rim of her mug. “I can hardly create a chair without nearly dying, so unless you can find me a million chairs’ worth of aether…”

They both laughed whilst Nero watched, confused and mildly indignant about his lack of knowledge about whatever it was they were talking about, but soon the Emperor turned his attention on him. “What do you know of aether-aspect communications?” the Emperor asked. “It’s hardly base curriculum in the Academy, but I know _you’d_ not be satisfied with the mere base.”

“There is no satisfaction in mediocrity,” said Nero proudly, and the indignance quickly melted away. “It was all theoretical, obviously, but fascinating all the same.”

“[Then I’m sure you’ll find the Crystal Tower’s networks to be _very_ fascinating.]”

The increasingly familiar smile on the Emperor’s face and the similarly familiar tone of his voice made Nero’s heart skip a beat.

“[I'm sure I will],” he managed to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: local engineer can't hold all these signals**
> 
> hahahah don't mind my bullshit fantasy telecommunications terms i did my best to make it sound neat. i also resisted the urge to talk about fantasy tcp/ip because y'all are here for porn and not fantasy communication protocols. :|  
> 
> 
> ALSO UH. SO. 
> 
> i drew a whole-ass comic about nero and his ass getting a dick in it, and i'm setting it up to be printed along with what i have of this fic! i think i need maybe one more chapter or so of this to properly round out a Volume One compilation. if you are not a member of emet-selch book club and you would like to own this sort of thing, please DM me! alternatively, join the book club so you'll know when this thing is a real thing! there's a link in the prologue if you'd like to do so, and you will join a server of people who will love you aggressively. :)


	8. Aether Poisoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the smartest idiot in the realm

Nero wasn’t sure when he began to feel unwell. Before the feeling worsened, he thought the malaise was a mere symptom of working too hard on too little food, which often happened when the fire of inspiration burned brightly. But that certainly couldn’t be the cause; he was remarkably well-fed in recent days thanks to one gluttonous Warrior of Light who insisted on pushing entire meals at him whenever she was around. Which was often. 

One benefit of his arrangement with the Emperor, he supposed. 

So. It wasn’t likely that he was dying of malnutrition. Neither did he seem to be dying of dehydration, after a week where might have drank his body weight in water.

And finally, during one evening in his flat when he could no longer ignore the distinct feeling of unwellness, he took stock of his symptoms:

  * Lightheadedness
  * Racing heart
  * Shortness of breath
  * Intermittent chest pain



It seemed unlikely for a man of his physical fitness and general healthiness to be having a heart attack, especially since he hadn’t yet dropped dead, so he quickly discarded that idea and arrived at the next most likely theory: 

Aether poisoning.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The Emperor and the Warrior of Light had described to him what had happened on the First, and so he knew that the Warrior of Light somehow had more aether than any reasonable person ought to have. And as he was regrettably a mere mortal beside the likes of an Ascian and the Warrior of Light he was certain that his mortal body—exemplary it may be—was succumbing to aether poisoning due to his frequent proximity to the Emperor and by extension, Annaiette.

But _this_ was not an insurmountable problem in the least. In fact, now that was more than reasonably sure of the source of his ills, it didn’t take long at all for him to consider his options and come up with a few suitable solutions. 

The simplest solution, of course, was to limit the time spent around the Warrior of Light. This didn’t sit well with Nero for a couple reasons—it was less of a solution and more avoidance of the problem, and he couldn’t very well ban the Warrior of Light from the Ironworks. Jessie would never let him hear the end of it, as it turned out that the Warrior of Light had decided that repairing all manner of broken equipment in the workshop was a good way to unwind after stints in the battlefield and Jessie would not easily let go of these free repairs just because of a soon-to-be-rectified weakness.

And the Emperor would surely be dismayed were Nero to resort to _avoidance_ —the most-skilled engineer in the realm couldn’t simply shy away from something as trivial as a smidge of aether poisoning. That, and the Emperor would certainly not suffer banishing her from the workshop...Not that Nero was all that eager to do so, in any case, as he’d found her an entertaining-enough conversationalist now that she was spending more time in Mor Dhona.

And so the most tenable solution was to build an aetherial field attenuator to mitigate the harmful effects of the aether. This was an _actual_ solution, and one which would allow for Annaiette’s presence.

* * *

**BONUS HADES FROM THE LAST CHAPTER ô w ô**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: cid isn't sure if he should say anything or not so he's uh just gonna let nero spin his wheels for a bit**
> 
> hey, reader. yeah you.  
> c'mere.
> 
> ilu.


	9. A Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this needs no preamble hahahaha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: hades is good at giving gifts**  
> 
> 
> HUGE THANKS TO THE EMET-SELCH BOOKCLUB DISCORD because i would not have drawn 27 fucking pages of fucking otherwise, and it was so much fun to draw this for y'all. <3
> 
> drawing it was sure a ride...the first page is a mess and then things improve as the comic progresses. y'all, drawing porn is super good for dat anatomy practice and this comic shows it lol.
> 
> also! i'm compiling this fic into a physical print book. hoping it doesn't become a huge shenanigan due to rules about nsfw content, but i'll work it out somehow!


	10. Undefined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short little thing

It was becoming a rarer and rarer occurrence for Nero to be unfamiliar with the words of casual conversation. But the words uttered by the Emperor as he and the Warrior of Light turned to leave his workshop were completely foreign to him.

“[Those words I do not know],” Nero said, crossing his arms. “[What do they mean?]”

The Emperor merely laughed and slipped out the door with a glib glance back at him over his shoulder.

“[You’re quite smart, my dear. I have every confidence that you’ll have no trouble working it out],” said the Emperor as they disappeared into the darkness. 

Nero furrowed his brow as he leaned back against his workbench. The Emperor was typically quite forthcoming regarding words that were unknown to him, and as he thought on it, Nero realized this was the first instance of him outright refusing to define the word or even provide a hint.

But the Emperor’s faith was not misplaced—he knew it wouldn’t take him long at all to figure it out. Since the word was completely foreign, he suspected it was not a word used in science and engineering; he turned to the stack of tomestones he didn’t often examine and pulled them from their dusty cubby. Tomestones of Philosophy, Mythology, Poetics...Surely he would find the answer in _one_ of these.

He took the first tomestone off top, blew the dust off it, and got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: u wot m8**
> 
> just a small thing to set up for the next thing uwu


	11. Anisotropic Diffusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told myself this was just gonna be a fic to show off all the doodles and it's just a bunch of random shitposts and stuff  
> and i just
> 
> why did i write so much

Tools.

Paper.

Sack of gil.

Linkpearls.

Gunblade.

Nero took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he glanced over the items laid out across his workbench. These were the only things he would need out in the field, and he didn’t have many other belongings besides—anything he could leave at the Ironworks was already safely hidden away, and he was certain Garlond would never find any of it.

A stack of tomestones sat in their spot on the workbench, untouched.

He clutched at the ache in his chest and took another deep breath in a futile attempt to ease it. It would be a thing of the past soon, he hoped; the sooner he got out of Mor Dhona and away from the blasted Ironworks, the sooner he could pull his head from the fog that had overtaken it.

The Emperor couldn’t have meant those words. It was utter foolishness—for someone like Nero and for someone like _him_ , whatever it was they had was surely something meant to burn bright before consuming itself, and it was clear now that the moment was upon them. He would not delay the inevitable. Neither would he stay to merely be played a fool—he knew better than that.

So he would get this over with, and he would get on with his life.

He tried not to look at the tomestones as he shouldered his pack.

“Going somewhere, Nero?”

Garlond. What in the world was he doing here at this hour?

“Isn’t it past your bedtime, Garlond?” Nero said, forcing a smirk on his face as he turned to face him.

He stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and an almost pitying smile that Nero hated. “What am I to do when you’re in here making all this noise?” he asked.

“Well, luckily for you, Garlond, you’ll not have to suffer this noise much longer,” Nero said, adjusting the strap of his pack as he stepped forward toward Garlond and the doorway.

Garlond didn’t move.

The smile faded slightly from Nero’s face. “Step aside, Garlond,” Nero said, firmly enough for him to take it as a thinly-veiled threat of violence.

A raised eyebrow indicated that Garlond understood the threat between his words, but he still didn’t budge from his place in the doorway.

“Where are you going?” Garlond asked lightly, as though they were merely chatting over coffee and Nero hadn’t just almost-threatened him.

“It’s really none of your concern. Now step aside.”

He made to push past Garlond but he quickly found himself stumbling backward from a firm push from one of Garlond’s massive arms. “What’s this about, Garlond?” Nero demanded once he regained his footing.

“Something happened between you and Hades, didn’t it?” Garlond asked, straightening up and crossing his arms again—he somehow now filled even more of the doorway.

“Again, none of your concern,” Nero said, scowling. “ _Step aside_.”

“You wouldn’t be trying to run if it was just _over_. It’s something else.”

Nero clenched a fist. “Even if it _was_ your concern—which it isn’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Garlond had the gall to roll his eyes. “Come now, Nero, there’s no need to play dumb with me,” he said, and he had the additional gall to look _reproachful_.

He didn’t have the time nor patience for this—his chest felt unbearably tight and he needed to be rid of this place as soon as he could. Without dignifying Garlond’s words with any sort of response, he made to shove Garlond aside to make room to pass—that is, until he found himself being pressed backward with an arm once again. Nero frowned and tried to extricate himself from Garlond’s arms, but to his dismay it seemed that Garlond was very much determined to keep him there and was doing all he could to keep a grip on him.

“Nero—Nero, no—we need to talk— _ouch!_ ”

Nero had accidentally clipped him in the face with an elbow in the midst of their struggle, and he was _just_ considering perhaps maybe slightly apologizing when he let out a yelp of pain as a fist met his face—he stumbled back from the shock and indignity and disbelief that Garlond would _dare_ —

But before he could regain his composure and ask Garlond what the bloody hells he was on about, he let out another yelp when he felt a hand wrap around his arm as he was shoved backward and tripped by a well-placed foot behind his legs. The air was knocked from his lungs when he hit the floor—his fall was slowed by the hand clinging his arm but not enough to keep the gunblade’s cylinder from digging painfully into his back in the impact. He couldn’t even begin to move before he felt a weight on his stomach, pinning him down—

Cid Garlond was _sitting on him_.

“Garlond, what do you think you’re doing?” Nero wheezed.

“Talking to you,” was the reply.

Nero only struggled beneath him in response, but Garlond was too heavy and Nero too encumbered by his traveling pack and sword to properly wriggle out of Garlond’s hold. This was not for lack of trying, obviously, but after a few futile attempts at throwing Garlond off, he was forced to accept that he’d not be allowed to escape any time soon. He let his head fall back against the floor and groaned in frustration.

“Fine. What is _so_ important to talk about that you would pass up the opportunity to be rid of me?” Nero asked sullenly. He took care to look at the dust bunny on the floor to his right—he couldn’t bring himself to look at the irritatingly self-satisfied smile on Garlond’s face.

“I want to know why you’re running away.”

Nero let out a _hmph_ and continued examining the dust bunny. “I’m doing nothing of the sort. I’ve simply grown bored of the middling work that passes as engineering here.”

“Bored. Right.” Nero could see Garlond leaning in closer out the corner of his eye, so he took extra care to find all the dust bunnies that escaped his regular cleaning regimen. “That’s not what you were saying moons ago, when you were raving about all that _fascinating_ Allagan technology.”

“That was _moons_ ago as you said yourself, Garlond,” Nero said flatly. “I’ve grown bored. It’s as simple as that.”

“Ah. And so you’ve also grown bored of being superior to me in the space of Allagan technology?”

Inwardly Nero cursed that blasted Garlond. The man was intentionally goading him but Nero couldn’t bring himself to lie and agree, and so he instead redoubled his efforts to escape.

_SLAP._

With his cheek stinging and his mouth agape, Nero stared up at Garlond in disbelief.

_Did Cid Garlond just slap him?_

“You’re a godsdamned fool, Scaeva,” said Garlond clenching his hand before shaking out some evident pain. “Why are you running from one of the best things that has ever happened to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Nero spat as he tried to throw Garlond off with a heave of his hips. But Garlond was bloody determined and quickly returned to his perch on Nero’s stomach before he could slip out from under him. When had Garlond gotten so good at wrestling?

“Are you just being obtuse or are you actually this stupid?” Cid said in exasperation.

The ache in his chest was too much, made no better by the brute of a man sitting on him, _cornering him_. It was getting difficult to breathe—he had to get away from here before he could no longer properly think—

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Garlond?”

“What—what does that even mean? Come on, Nero, do I _really_ need to spell it out for you?” he asked, before putting a hand to his face in weary disbelief.

Nero only struggled in response—he could hardly think and his breath was growing more panicked as he strained to get free—

He felt Garlond’s calloused hands on his cheeks and his head forced to face up so he could no longer escape Garlond’s eye.

“Nero!”

“ _What?_ ”

Garlond didn’t loosen his grip on Nero’s face, but he sighed and his shoulders visibly drooped. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this combination of words,” he murmured under his breath, before resolutely pressing Nero’s face between his palms.

“Nero—you are in love with the Emperor. And that scares you.”

Nero felt as though his heart stopped in his chest, and in the wake of Garlond’s words he lay there unable to move.

That was foolishness—that was preposterous—that was—

“...Nonsense.”

It _was_ nonsense—it was complete and utter nonsense. Him—Nero Scaeva— _in love?_ The very idea was absurd—wholly absurd—he’d long since cast aside the desire to deal in _feelings_ so why would he start now—

“Nero.”

The sound of Garlond’s voice drew his attention, and he realized that Garlond still had a hold of his face.

“Get off me, Garlond. I have to go.”

Garlond sighed and only held his face tighter.

“Nero, honestly. Do you not realize just how—?”

“It’s impossible—it’s purely physical and it means _nothing_ —”

“Listen to yourself. You’ve been rationalizing it through the hells and back because you’ve been too much of an idiot to see it for what it is. Aether poisoning? _Really?_ ”

Nero felt his face beginning to burn—who did Garlond think he was, pushing this indignity upon him and daring to call _him_ , the brilliant Nero Scaeva, an _idiot_ —

“I don’t _love_ people, Garlond. The very idea is nonsense— _ah_ —!” He couldn’t keep a small yelp of surprise from escaping his mouth when Garlond’s hands gave his face an extremely _rude_ shake.

“Nero!” Garlond snapped, his brow furrowed in his frustration, but a moment later his face softened and gave way to an irritatingly knowing smile that Nero wanted to slap off his face. “Ordinarily I’d agree with you, but somehow it’s fitting that you, Nero, would settle for no less than the First Emperor of Garlemald.”

His chest felt as though it was caving in upon itself.

“Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?”

Garlond’s eyes widened in disbelief. “ _I’m_ the one that sounds ridiculous? Are you— _OUCH!_ ”

Nero saw an opening when Garlond’s arms relaxed—he gave him a hefty slap to the cheek that was just enough to disorient him, and with one monumental effort, Nero gave him a shove with his arms and his hips and managed to throw him off. He scrambled out from under him and leapt to his feet, and he was out the door before Garlond could recover and entrap him once more.

“Nero! Gods _dammit_ , Nero, _wait!_ ”

He hadn’t realized that he’d started running until he found himself out of breath on the path leading north into the Coerthas Central Highlands. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that Garlond was not giving chase, but he was not about to wait to find out otherwise. As soon as he caught his breath, he continued on as briskly as he was able in the quickly cooling clime—as he walked, he tried not to think about how his chest still felt unbearably heavy despite finally being free of Revenant’s Toll in the crisp night air. He was sure that this would soon change once he was able to gather himself and rest without the threat of that fool Garlond trying to find him.

If only Garlond hadn’t tried to shove his nose where it didn’t belong! Nero had intended to hire a chocobo to take him out of Mor Dhona and into Gridania, but he had been so intent on escaping Garlond that he was now out here on foot. Still, it was only a minor setback. The path from Mor Dhona to the entrance of the North Shroud was not long and it would be no trouble for him to endure a few hours of the night cold—he was not a child of the freezing Garlemald for nothing, after all.

Something in his chest clenched at the thought of Garlemald, but he quickly pushed the feeling aside.

By the time he reached Fallgourd Float, he was nearly dead on his feet. The walk would have been as nothing in normal conditions—maybe pleasant, even—but he slept poorly the past few days and he had forced himself to march hard through the night to throw off any would-be pursuers. It was with great effort that he managed to muddle his way through securing a room at the inn, and once inside he curled up on the bed without bothering to take off his clothing—coat and boots be damned—and covered his head with a pillow.

The urge to cry was confusing and overwhelming, and as he tried his damndest to smother the feeling with the pillow, he drifted off into an uneasy doze with Garlond’s words echoing uncontrollably in his mind.

It was well into midmorning when Nero woke from his daze and stumbled down to continue his trek to Gridania, and he gave a start when he found the Warrior of Light at a table with a book open in front of her. She had been waiting for him, evidently; he had no time to back up or find somewhere to hide before her eyes found him and rooted him to the spot with their characteristic intensity. When she pulled out a chair at her table and gestured to it, for a fleeting moment he wondered if he might make it out the door before she could capture him. Once upon a time he might have been perfectly capable, but _now_ after everything that she had been through, he wasn’t likely to make it past the aetheryte before her ludicrous strength returned him to her clutches.

He took a seat in the proffered chair and crossed his arms. It was difficult to keep eye contact but he didn’t want to appear as pathetic as he actually felt, and so he gave her the most nonchalant-but-somewhat-amused face he could manage.

“And what business might the Warrior of Light have at the Float?”

She didn’t speak, but the silent and unimpressed look she gave him told him that her business here was most certainly to either capture or kill him. At this juncture, he wondered if the latter might be preferable.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally opened her mouth to speak.

“Why did you leave without saying anything?”

Her tone was not gentle but was not accusatory either.

“I thought it better this way.”

She frowned, and her expression darkened.

And she was silent for a long, unbearable moment.

“In what way is this better?”

Her tone was not gentle but neither did she raise her voice.

This, somehow, pierced him more than if she had screamed and yelled and threatened him with her brand of Warrior of Light violence.

Despite this, brazen words sprang unbidden from his mouth—he felt them coming but he couldn’t stop himself—

“I couldn’t expect the _Warrior of Light_ to understand.”

Annaiette had been nothing but relaxed and gentle when around the Ironworks and Mor Dhona at large so it was easy to forget that she was the notorious Eikon Slayer who laid low eikons and the Ultima Weapon and even the Emperor himself.

It was the Eikon Slayer who sat before him with obvious and careful restraint belied only by the clenching of her fists.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“If you wanted to end it, you could have just said so instead of saying _nothing_ for days and then running off dramatically.”

And again, he could not stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“What am I if not dramatic? And to accuse _me_ of dramatics when I’ve not been gone a day and you’ve come to hunt me down—”

He could hardly conceal a gasp of surprise when the bizarre sensation of something overwhelming, fiery, _somehow blue (?)_ gradually pressed through him. The feeling was somehow both familiar and foreign—he didn’t understand it but he knew that in this moment, this surreal feeling churning under his skin and in his chest and in his bones told him that the Eikon Slayer was frustrated and anxious and unimaginably furious—

“Nero.” Her tone was not gentle, but still she did not raise her voice. “Can you just tell him to his face that you want to end it? After that, I’ll take you wherever you want to go, no questions asked. I promise.”

Nero let out a quivering breath.

“I suspect you won’t let me refuse.”

“You suspect right,” she said, and that smile that was so often bright and warm was now deeply threatening. “I'll buy you breakfast first though, if you’re hungry.”

If he put anything in his stomach it was liable to come back up at the most inopportune time, and so he shook his head and pulled himself to his feet. “I’m not hungry.”

When she merely shrugged and stood up from her seat, dread welled up in his stomach to join the myriad of other unpleasant feelings threatening to make him ill; her attempt to feed him was half-hearted at best and if anything only spoke to the anger that surely burned within. As he followed her out the door after tossing his room key to the innkeep, he had an ineffectual urge to speak and fill the silence but his thoughts were only _just_ coherent and he could find no words to say.

He was, however, together enough to notice an interesting lack of vehicle—mechanical or otherwise—when they emerged from the inn. Did the Warrior of Light intend to march him back to Revenant’s Toll on foot?

She took a few steps forward toward the bridge, but abruptly stopped and turned to face him. “Before we leave, I wanted to tell you something,” she said, the smile now absent from her face. “Hades doesn’t lie. So don’t try to convince yourself he is lying to you, all right?”

It seemed she didn’t care wait for him to respond before grasping his arm with an iron grip. She was soon bathed in the glow of her telltale teleportation magicks, but to his shock and surprise he found the glow spreading over him as they were both lifted a few ilms from the ground. The bizarre feeling from earlier returned and with it came the sensation that the vice grip that held his arm was now wrapping around his—what, his insides?—but before he could utter even a sound of protest, Fallgourd Float fell away and he was dragged down—up—through?—a great, rushing river of greens and blues and abstract concepts to which he could assign no earthly words—

And as soon as it started, it stopped and he found himself reeling beside the aetheryte in what was clearly Revenant’s Toll in the midst of the midmorning hustle and bustle.

The Warrior of Light steadied him with the hand that still gripped his arm. There was already a stream of questions about the experience clamoring to be asked, but now was regrettably not the time for such things—she had quickly turned to make her way to the residential area of Revenant’s Toll, and the expectant and mildly warning look over her shoulder was as a clear indication that he should follow.

It felt harder and harder to breathe the closer they got to her flat.

Her silence was deafening.

Nero didn’t know what to expect to see behind her flat door as she unlocked it—all he knew was that his mouth had gone dry and his chest was caving in—

“Back so soon? I thought you were going to be hunting all day.”

The Emperor was at the table by the window, engrossed in work on what Nero recognized as a component from a shield generator. He glanced up to the door with a smile but as soon as his eyes fell upon Nero, the smile faded; it was immediately clear that Annaiette had neglected to mention that the target of her hunt was Nero himself.

“Say whatever you need to say and then meet me downstairs,” said Annaiette stiffly, before retreating from the flat and leaving Nero standing there awkwardly by the door.

The silence between them seemed to stretch into eternity.

“And what exactly does Annaiette think needs to be said?” the Emperor finally asked as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “You made things abundantly clear, Nero. Best run down quickly lest you anger her further.”

There were so many words—so many words to say and yet he could grasp none of them—

The Emperor only frowned at his silence. “If you have nothing to say, then get out. I’ve better things to do.”

“—I didn’t want to be played a fool.”

Nero’s voice was hardly louder than a whisper.

For a long, unbearable moment, the Emperor sat motionless.

“Go, then, if that is your only concern,” the Emperor said, and though his voice was calm and level, Nero could hear it subtly tinged with despair. “I’m the only one here who has been a fool—it was foolish of me to think there was anything more.”

Garlond’s words echoed loudly in his ear.

What the Emperor said—it wasn’t right—

Garlond’s words loomed in his mind and he _hated_ it —

What the Emperor said wasn’t right and Nero wouldn’t suffer the inaccuracy—

“That’s complete nonsense—that’s not it at all!” he blurted out. The Emperor arched an eyebrow at his defiant tone, but now that Nero had broken the seal on his voice, he found himself unable to stop the words from spilling out. “I left because I didn’t—I _don’t—_ want to be cast aside as soon as it’s convenient! I suppose you want _me_ because you’re waiting on someone else who is more to your liking? Is Annaiette not all you wished for, and so you’re using me as a stopgap?”

He couldn’t stop his mouth and he couldn’t stop whatever nonsense was happening in his eyes—

“My curse, it seems, is to be the most exceptional person who is only ever _settled_ for and I’m bloody tired of it—if I’m to be strung along as entertainment and then thrown out once your true desire comes around, then I want none of it.”

His throat was tightening—his fists quivering—

“I can’t—I can’t bear it again—not when I—”

He was losing a grip on himself—he hated that he was losing a grip on these silly, inane feelings—he hated that the Emperor had this effect on him—

_He hated how right Garlond was—_

Through his bleary vision he saw the Emperor slowly get to his feet—in this midst of his pathetic indignity Nero couldn’t bear to meet his gaze—there was no going back after everything he’d said and he would surely be told to leave and not return and despite all that he’d just done and despite the part of him pushing these damnable feelings away despite all of that he knew _he knew_ he didn’t _want_ that _he never wanted that_ —

A hand pressed to his cheek and gently wiped the tears away—the touch was almost startling, and Nero looked up filled with shame and humiliation and _fear_ —

The pale gold eyes of the Emperor met his—those eyes that he’d stared into so many times before looked wearier, stricken almost—and in these eyes Nero was sure he saw the inevitable and his chest felt as though it was liable to crack and rupture—

“I have not _settled_ for you. An Emperor does not settle, nor does an Ascian,” said the Emperor, and he continued wiping tears away with a thumb as he spoke. “There is no reason these days for me to suffer the presence of any soul I do not wish to be around. And were I merely seeking a warm body to spend nights with, there is no reason to _settle_ when I have Annaiette.”

The tears kept coming—he couldn’t stop them.

“Why me, then, when you have the _Warrior of Light?_ What am I but some spare to be used when she is absent?”

The Emperor was silent for a moment—his eyes seemed to study him and in this moment Nero knew the Emperor must be steeling himself to give bad news—

“I love Annaiette,” the Emperor said finally.

Nero let out a rattling breath and opened his mouth to concede this truth when he felt his face squeezed between the Emperor’s hands.

“But that fact doesn’t preclude me from loving _you_ , [my dear engineer].”

The Emperor’s words were already unimaginable but the sound of Allagan on his tongue tweaked at something in Nero—he could feel another wave of inexplicable tears fast approaching and before he could stop himself he said the unthinkable—

“I don’t understand.”

The Emperor’s mouth spread into a thin smile.

“It means, [my dear], that you are not a spare, and in fact have managed to fit yourself in _exceptionally_ well.”

Where the flurry of thoughts had been overwhelming just moments before, Nero now found his mind going numb. This was—this was ludicrous—there was no way these were anything but honeyed words that would be conveniently forgotten as soon as it suited the Emperor—

“But—Annaiette—”

“Annaiette would not have brought you back so quickly if she didn’t want you here.” The Emperor tilted his head in slight amusement. “She is, however, quite angry. I must commend you, as angering her so is quite difficult to do.”

The Emperor wiped the last of the tears from Nero’s face before lowering his hands. “If you still wish to leave, then it’s time you were on your way. Annaiette will be quite displeased if you keep her waiting,” he said with a smile that was in stark contrast with the eyes that somehow appeared even more tired than before…

But in that moment he knew he couldn’t leave—

He didn’t _want_ to leave—

Though he still couldn’t be sure that these words weren’t merely for show—after all the years and years of crushing disappointment he couldn’t be sure that this, too, wouldn’t simply end the same way —

_Hades doesn’t lie._

—he desperately wished for it all to be true—

It was with this desperate wish that Nero found himself with his face buried in the Emperor’s shoulder and his arms clinging tightly around him.

And in this unimaginable situation, he once more said the unimaginable:

“I still don’t understand.”

He felt the small laugh in the Emperor’s chest, and arms wrapping around him.

“How unlike you, [my dear]. I was led to believe that you are an engineer,” the Emperor said. Nero lifted his head to give the Emperor a both questioning and indignant look, and he found that familiar half-smile that made something flutter in his chest. There was another small laugh in the Emperor’s chest. “[It simply falls to you to begin collecting data until you _do_ understand, now doesn’t it? I will provide your first data point].”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tl;dr: not a spare**  
> 
> 
> why did i write so many gotdang words and then draw shoujo-level art


End file.
